


What Do You Know?

by Redcrow



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Gen, WIP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-17
Updated: 2013-02-17
Packaged: 2017-11-29 14:52:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/688214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Redcrow/pseuds/Redcrow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John returns to Baker Street.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Do You Know?

**Author's Note:**

> Just possibly the start of something longer....
> 
> Disclaimer: These characters are not mine, I just borrow them from time to time.

Time, it seemed, as it was often said, is relative. For John there were times when it slowed so much, it may as well have stopped and then there were times like the last two years and however many months when it moved faster than he thought possible. He looked up, past the ground floor windows of Speedy’s Cafe, past the decorative black iron window railings of the first floor and imagined the room beyond. He could see it in clear, painful detail and despite the pain those images invoked, he wanted to be in that room again, even if only for a few minutes.

John sighed and looked down at the pavement under his feet. Shoving a hand in his pocket he fumbled with his keys and crossed the road to the door of 221B. Of course Mrs Hudson would have let the rooms to someone else, John knew she couldn’t afford to hold them forever. There was a sharp pang of guilt, he should have been to see her long before now and he didn’t call as often as he meant to. He frowned and wondered about Sherlock’s things, those teetering piles of papers and magazines, the experiment equipment, would Mycroft have taken it all? John suddenly felt irrationally concerned for Sherlock’s belongings. He shook his head at himself and stepped up to knock on the door.

As John raised his knuckles to the painted wood, he stopped, this just didn’t feel right. He had no idea how to explain this feeling even to himself but instead of knocking, he pulled his keys from his pocket and stood staring at 221B Baker Street’s key. He ran the pad of his thumb over the edge of it, sure that the lock must have been changed by now, long before now and yet he still slowly pushed it into the lock and turned it smoothly.

There was an audible click and John felt a twist inside himself. The door swung open. 

The hallway looked just as it always had done and knowing that he really shouldn’t be here, John stepped inside and quietly closed the door behind him. He took a deep shuddering breath and slowly climbed the stairs, his leg aching faintly, like some muscular or skeletal memory.

It seemed much brighter at the top of the stairs than he remembered, the light was almost blinding. John squinted and shaded his eyes, waiting for them to adjust. He looked around himself and was surprised to see the flat looking pretty much the same as it did the last time he was here. Sherlock’s piles of clutter were a little more neatly stacked, the net curtains were gone and the heavy drapes were pinned back with ornate curtain ties. The amount of light this let in though the tall windows was quite extraordinary.

“Sherlock wouldn’t let me change the curtains, he wasn’t so keen on sunlight.”

John spun around “Oh Mrs Hudson….I’m sorry…I..just needed to see it again, I didn’t think my key would work.”

“Oh my dear, don’t apologize.” Mrs Hudson smiled warmly and stepped into the room. “I always hoped you would come back one day, I’ve missed you…and Sherlock.”

“Why is it all still here Mrs H? I thought you would have new tenants by now.”

“Well there’s the thing.” She said clasping his hand, John gave hers a little squeeze in return, he was surprised to find himself happy to see her, happy to be in 221B again.

“The rent is still being paid, in yours and Sherlock’s name. I didn’t question it because, as I said, I hoped you would come back and…..”

“What is it Mrs H?”

“Well…despite the fact that I’m pretty sure it’s Mycroft making the payments,…..I still hoped Sherlock would come back too.” Mrs Hudson peered at John expectantly, waiting for a reaction.

“Oh Mrs H, he’s gone, he’s….dead…” John swallowed, there was a twist deep inside him again.

“Do you really believe that John?”

John stared at her, his mouth open, ready to spill all the explanations and rational arguments for why thinking anything different was crazy, all the reasons his therapist gave him. But his therapist had been wrong before. He swallowed and very quietly whispered, “What do you know?”


End file.
